


Seventeen Years

by ashyblondwaves



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 12:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19992013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashyblondwaves/pseuds/ashyblondwaves
Summary: An anonymous prompt to use ""Seventeen years of my life packed away in one day" as a prompt -- Jonathan takes this one over. Comments are appreciated!





	Seventeen Years

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr; ashyblondwaves!

_Seventeen years of my life packed away in one day…_

_204 months._

_6,209 days._

_These walls have heard a lot. And now they’re the only thing left._

_The screams of our mother, protecting her sons from the man we reluctantly call our father. She always tried to keep him from hurting us. But she couldn’t be here all the time to stop him. And because of that, the walls have heard mine and Will’s screams, too._

_They’ve witnessed the celebrated shouts as we rang in each new year and felt the tickle of the homemade confetti Will used to cut up every year and throw in the air as he shouted, “Happy New Year” while he jumped from on top of the couch._

_They’ve listened to the Happy Birthday song year after year. Loud, off key; dreadful. But never without affection. And never without a cake. The walls hold years of smoke from blown out candles and maybe a few sprinkles from spirited food fights._

_They know how many times Nancy has snuck in and out of my bedroom window. They hold secrets that I’d never repeat and moments between us far too private to talk about with anyone else._

_These walls have seen a lot too._

_Will’s drawings. He used to pin them to the wall and I know mom wanted to yell at him for putting holes in the wall, but her pride in her son’s work won out and she simply let him know how great his drawings were. And they stayed there._

_For years the kitchen wall right next to the fridge held the very first photo I ever took and developed myself. A horribly composed photo of the dog. Half of his face was only half in the frame, the blur was significant and the exposure was way too low. But mom insisted it stay up, “that’s my son’s work, it stays.” That’s what she’d say every time I tried to take it down. And now I finally have._

_Mother’s day cards, always on construction paper; always homemade. Some years we had then done in April. Other years we scrambled the night before to find the perfect way to say, “I love you, mom.”_

_Bills that went unpaid for too long. Piling up on the kitchen table. Mom would sit at that table night after night after she thought we’d gone to bed. She’d sit there and crunch numbers for hours, trying to find a way to get those past due letters to stop coming._

_Lights that flickered the words of a lost son. Will was there in those lights. Desperate for mom. Desperate to be home. Just as we were desperate to have him back._

_These walls have felt the damage of nails, fists and fire. They’re scarred by things nobody would ever believe were there until they saw it come crashing through the drywall. A heaping mass of God knows what, growling and barreling through as if the wall was made of wet paper._

_And today, we leave it all behind._


End file.
